Love Lost
by TheElementist
Summary: There is no love lost between Max and Phoebe. They despise each other and the feeling is mutual, but what happens when Max discovers a treasure trove of memories that shows another life with Phoebe at time when they were both young. Max is confused and lost. He doesn't remember this past but Phoebe does and knows the truth. Warning, Thundercest! Don't read if offended!


A/N: I got this idea for this story from reading **Please Forgive Me for whatever I do, when I don't remember you** by  Hollywoodluv122

You guys should check it out. It's short-unfortunately :( -but very good in my opinion.

/

"Talk"

 _Thoughts_

 _/_

P.S. English is not first language so apologies for the grammar.

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 **CHAPTER 1:** **SECRETS**

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Max Thunderman burst into her room like it is his domain; hands wide and might with no shame or honor. The king has arrived.

He sucks in the air, enjoying the fragrance that floats around it. It brings out his trademark smirk. Her rooms always captivates him with its different smells; a different fruity aroma to assault his nostrils.

But Max never complains. In fact, it's one of the thrills of sneaking in here; the anticipation of discovering what new fragrance her room holds. Today's cherry with a hint of strawberry.

Like the droplets of blood in water, drawing in a frenzy of sharks from miles away; her room awakens the hunger once dormant within. The urge for some strawberry crème pie hunts his thoughts, but the task at hand takes greater priority. Sugary pastries would have to wait. He would seek out his mother for some pies later.

She would likely demand something from his part; a chore to fulfill or something. There's always a condition for Barb's homemade pies; a quest to accomplish before she hands over the reward that is her warm, delectable, creamy pies that snatches your taste buds to an ethereal land of sugary spoils.

Max licks his lips before a drool could escape; a smile on his lips as he felt no shame in fantasizing about those pies. He would get Barbs to bake those pies for him and he would get Billy do whatever she chores she wants as payment.

It was perfect! Everything; his plans, the pies, him…..

 _And some orange juice_. Those pies will get washed down well with a glass of that.

His mouthwatering thoughts threatened to disjoint him from reality, but he remembered his situation. Time was not a luxury. And this was the opportunity while she was away.

 _Phoebe._ Her name fouled his mood and soured his mouth. _Leave it to her to ruin a good pie_ —one he doesn't even have yet.

A bane on his side, the twin was. The only outlier in the family, she stands out like a white peppered moth latch on a soot-covered tree. Her resistance to his persuasions grates his nerves. She's immune to his fear, threats, and bribery. Nothing works with her and it is vexing.

But somewhere buried in that torrent of hatred towards his twin is an admiration for her tenacity. She is strong against his advances but what Max wants, Max gets.

And Max wants that carnivorous bug-eating plant.

/

He scans the room; neat, preen, and hostile to dust and grime as always. How she maintains this level of pristine never cease to wow him. It might explain the lack of time she spares for social activities that normal teens who aren't so uptight like Phoebe would partake.

She did spare some time for Cherry this afternoon. Otherwise this plant heist would have been postponed to a safer date and time.

 _The plant? Where is that plant?_ The object of his break-in was nowhere to be found. Not on her desk or at the window—where at least it ought to be, feeding on the sunlight.

 _Did she leave with it?_ He never considered that possibility. His intentions toward her plant were quite overt.

He walks over to her closet doors. _Locked!_

But he came prepared for such resistance.

Brandishing a pin, he unlocks it without delay and swings apart the doors wide open to find a room already lit.

 _There you are!_ He beams with a maniacal grin; his white teeth laid bare in all its glory.

Sitting on high pedestal in the middle of the walk-in closet was the juvenile carnivorous plant; bathing under the yellow light bulb—her substitute for the sun's ray—a water jug contraption next to it; set up to provide droplets of water at timed intervals.

Without haste, Max snatches the plant, cradling it with care like an infant.

"Let's getcha ya out of this death trap." He speaks to the plant like it hears; his voice dripping with anguish and worry. He glances around the pristine room with fear ridden on his face as if a monster will peel out to attack him.

It was disturbing, this room. Everything about it was wrong; too freaking clean to host a living organism. His twin was mad, deranged. Did she not realize how reckless her actions were; sentencing this poor life-form to death by trapping it in this godforsaken, clean, dirt-free, spotless abomination for a closest. She is inhuman and this scene affirms his actions to be just. He would fare much better in caring for this plant than she ever would.

"Now, don't you worry." He holds the plant to his face. "Where we're going, there is dirt, dust, germs….." He saunters towards the closest doors to leave. "… left over pizzas…..ouh, do you like pizza?" He halts to question the plant. The creature opens and snaps his jaws; emitting a low growl.

Max's smile widens. So much fun awaits the two of them. He would include pizza to the buffet waiting for his new plant buddy; a brown recluse, some wolf spiders, a large house centipede he caught in his bathroom this morning.

A glint flashes in his peripheral. He turns to the corner of the closest room. _A chest?_ Shrouded in towels—with some now peeling off to reveal the silver metal belts strapped around the wooden body.

Intrigue, he is. Phoebe took effort in concealing it; evident from the many layers of folded towels walled around and on top of it. But gravity had worn some down and she had yet to plug the holes.

/

He finds a place on her desk for the carnivorous plant and returns inside the closest to inspect the unearthed wooden chest.

Peeling more towels away, he examines the chest in its full glory. The dark brownish wood looks antic but feels well-polished, especially with the silver metal belts strapped around.

He knows it's probably locked but tries anyway. His assumption becomes confirmed when the dome top doesn't budge. He glides his thumb over the golden keyhole—the only gold on this chest. The golden metal is cold and chills his thumb. It looks intricate, the golden lock, but it can be crack. He's a villain after all and the villains always crack the safe.

This warrants more space and the closest is too cluster for his liking. He brings the chest out into the open spaces of her room.

Revealing a large bronze pin from his back pocket, he heats it with heat breath and then cools it back down a notch. The process made the pin metal malleable but sturdy; easier to twist and turn while sliding past the pins and drivers inside the lock cylinder.

He sticks it in, feeling the pin as he shoved forward with patience.

A click is heard and he smirks in response. He extracts the pin and prepares for the anticipation. Whatever secrets Phoebe keeps in here will be his to learn as well.

He begins to lift the top dome of the chest. The creaking of the wooden chest widens his smirk into a leer, but as soon as he eyes meets the contents of the chest, his leer flattens and the excitement dies off in a heartbeat.

The treasures inside the chest disappoint. Albums, toys, and other stuff that his eyes glaze over as junk, girly stuff, and rubbish littered inside.

His flat smile morphs into a frown and he holds himself back from slamming the dome back close. But curiosity wins over deflation and thus he fishes out one of the albums.

Further leaning into the side of the bed to straighten his back, he begins flipping through the album. It is filled with photos of the family since their move to Hiddenville. He doesn't remember them taken any of these and quite rightly so since he's missing in all of them.

 _She should title this as Maxless family photos…_..What!" He utters in shock after spotting a picture of Billy tied to a bungee cord, floating in midair as he plunges down towards a greenish river below. "When did this happen?" He sees Barbs, Nora, and Phoebe all with exciting—or fearful—looks on their faces as they witness Billy's acrobatic jump.

His family had an outing without him and they looked ecstatic. A mixture of pain and confusion swirls within, but soon gets swallow by bitter and anger. _I guess they forgot that they had a son._ And he wonders whether he would have learned about this was it not for the evidence left in this album.

He spots the fat blob, Cousin Blobbin, in another photo from the same scenery; this time with Dad in it but not Barbs—most likely the one responsible for this picture.

 _It was probably his doing. It had to be._ Only their rich cousin could afford such an amusement and considering how he was the recipient—by mistake—of one of Max's prank or _experiment_ , it makes sense for their cousin to leave him out of this secret bungee-jumping trip.

 _That itching lotion worked too well._ Max remembers his prank or _experiment_ —meant for his twin but the fat blob got to it first. The remedy for the lotion wasn't too kind as well; a whole week of showering in tomato sauce.

A smile etched on his face when he recalls the putrid body odor Cousin Blobbin and the entire household had to endure and it help that he was grounded for a week in his lair and away from it all.

 _Those were the good times!_

He ends his musing and flips through more pages of pictures of his family; not slowing down to discover other secret trips they might have had.

A clean page captures his eye and he pauses.

Flipping back in reverse, he heads towards it.

Buried in the center of the album; two pages, devoid of pictures except for one small picture.

On it was a boy—very young in age, younger than Billy—sitting in a colorful flower bed with a girl who looked about the same age. It was a sunny day.

They both were in laughter as the boy moved to place a crown of wedded sunflowers on the girl's head. She had bowed her head to allow him the honor.

The grin on both their faces looked pure and innocent; like their world was at peace.

Max couldn't pry his stunned eyes off the picture. The two figures on it looked alien to him; their actions seemed unreal to him. But he recognizes them—well, not their emotions—but the faces.

It was them as kids and they looked happy. He looked happy with Phoebe.


End file.
